|at 9 weeks|
The shower was absolutely lovely. Pink and perfect. The only way to welcome a precious baby girl into the world. I put my head down and found work to busy myself with as soon as I arrived - making coffee, something to clean, food to prep, drinks to pour, punch to make, busy, busy. I think this is what good friends do generally speaking anyway. I wanted her to enjoy the shower and not work so I would have done this regardless but it was also welcomed distraction, not gonna lie.
The food in her home is always spectacular and I definitely focused on it next, taking my time to only nibble at it while we played games. But the moment I couldn't avoid came at last. The gifts.
Initially I started in the back of the room, out of sight but after a few pastel treasures were opened and the oooh's and aaah's echoed from the living room into the kitchen I was drawn closer and closer until I was helping pass gifts and move them back out.
Two gifts hit me the hardest. The first was a solid pink onesie. So tiny and delicate. Of everything my babies have ever worn onesies are my favorite. When they have had their bath and are fresh and clean, smelling like babies, I want to hold them forever. When they are crawling out of their clothes it's the only thing that will stay on. They practically lived in onesies. I have the most vivid memories of each of my children in onesies and when I watched the new mommy hold it up, something inside of me started to ache all over again. I could see a little girl squirming inside it, bouncing and smiling.
The other gift sent such chills down my back, no kidding I thought for a moment I might faint. I can't even talk about here.
The beautiful baby we showered this weekend will be named Samantha Claire, a blessed baby with a wonderful family. I rejoice with them at this precious gift.
Yes, I spell it differently but none the less, seeing the name on so many gifts felt like paper cuts. Quick and stinging me. Clare seemed to be everywhere.
I'm told I held it together beautifully, not a sign to anyone that I was upset. I didn't know anyone at all so that helped. There was absolutely no chance I would take a moment of joy away from the celebration. I wouldn't take a moment or a memory away from someone else by making one second of it about me. For the grace to celebrate, genuinely, lovingly celebrate the joy of Samantha Claire I am so grateful.
Once I stepped into the car, I was scarcely out of the neighborhood before the tears came. My one and only comfort was my own beautiful, amazing daughter. Alive and well, thriving, growing and each and every day becoming more than I ever even dreamed for her. Holding her hand, stroking her hair, feeling her gentle kisses of comfort on my cheek and sharing the loss with me makes it bearable. She alone shares the loss with me. It's seems as if no one else in the world misses Clare but Taylor and I. With a little girl like Taylor how can I help but want more?